Taking Leave
by George P
Summary: In the human world, no child stays a child forever. A noble demon faces such an inevitable time.


Taking Leave

by

George Pollock, Jr.

"My lord," she said, "I wish to marry."

He raised an eyebrow. "I have no wish to marry you," he replied.

"Forgive me, my lord, but it's not _you _I wish to marry."

"I see." He studied the woman before him: She was beautiful, he supposed. For a human. Tall and slim, with long, rich dark hair. When the sunlight flecked through the branches above, her brown eyes would ignite for an instant, then return to their focused earnestness.

"Tell me why you wish to marry," he said.

She breathed once, deeply, raising and dropping her full breasts under the rough, torn, faded yukata she wore. He knew she had stolen it years before. As she had grown, she had taken to theft for her clothes. Food, she could find on the land anywhere. It was a skill of many years' honing, and she was quite good at it, he conceded. But her clothes she stole. It was of no importance to him.

"I've met a man," she replied.

"I _assumed_ a man was involved. What of it?"

"We've been in this area for many months now, my lord."

"My foe is persistent. I suspect this area is his home. It follows that we have stayed here."

She nodded. "And while we've been here, I've come to know this man well. He works in the fields at the village nearby. I've watched him from the forest's edge many days when you've been away."

"Tarrying around your own kind is unlike you," he noted.

"Yes …," she admitted, "it's _not_ like me."

"Then why do it _now?_"

She glanced away. "This man is … different, my lord …"

"How so?"

She faced him again. "I've come to know him. He's approached me gradually, and we've talked."

"Humans can be cruel. Do you deny that?"

"No … but I don't think this man is."

"And what makes you say _that?_"

"He's kind."

The lord huffed disdainfully. "A kind human is a contradiction."

Her arms crossed. "I've come to think otherwise, my lord."

"Have you, now?"

"The man spends hours in the fields. I asked him why. He said he must, to feed himself and his old parents."

"Pitiful creatures. They must scratch at the ground just for something to eat."

Her eyes narrowed in offense. "_I _have dug up roots myself, my lord. Am _I _pitiful?"

He thought. "I withdraw the remark. Continue."

"The man told me something else: He works in the fields because he likes to see the plants grow. 'Growing new life,' he calls it. A 'miracle' – whatever that is." She paused. "I think that means it's good."

"Humans call whatever they don't understand a 'miracle.' Or a 'monster.' " He thought more. "Or a 'demon' …"

Now she studied him. She hadn't understood her lord when they had met when she was a girl, but she did now. She had for many years. Even when she didn't understand him, she never considered him a monster. She had seen monsters. He had never been like them. Never.

"I've met his parents," she said.

"Indeed."

"They asked me a lot of questions about myself. I told them about my life with you."

"That … might not have been wise. What was their response?"

"They looked afraid, then angry," she recalled. "They yelled at me and argued with the man. They told me to get out of their house and never come back."

"I am … not surprised …"

"But I didn't go."

"No?"

"I told them I wasn't afraid of them."

"Commendable."

"And that you were good."

He stayed silent.

"That's when the man said he didn't think _I _was bad, either." She proceeded cautiously. "Do _you_ think I'm bad, my lord?"

"No. I do not."

"He told them how he had taken me around the village and how I seemed to be happy around children. I liked playing with them, and I seemed to make them happy. He called them a 'miracle,' too. His parents were quiet then."

"How the young of _any_ sort come about," he said, "is not as … miraculous … as you might think."

She brightened. "But he showed me how children come into the world."

Slowly, from the back of his soul, came an image of procreation – filthy, as all humans made it – and then came a rising of his true nature. His eyes tingled, which meant they were turning a fierce red.

"_How_ …," he growled like a vicious dog, "_exactly _… did he 'show' you …?"

She smiled. "He showed me a woman with a big belly. He said there was a baby inside her. He said that in a few months, the baby would leave her and be born."

The tingle in his eyes left suddenly. "Oh," he said simply.

"He said the woman had 'married' a man and made the baby with him. I think 'married' was the word. He said they made the baby with their love."

"A good explanation as any for humans."

"I really like this man, my lord," she finally said, softly.

"Why?"

"I feel … good … when I'm with him. Almost as good as when I'm with you."

"Then why leave? Why leave me?" Suddenly, he wondered why he asked that so emphatically. There was no urgency to this matter, after all.

"Because … I've never felt that with a human before. I'm not afraid of him. And I think he likes me, too. He said that's why he wanted to …"

"Wanted to _what …_?" he asked. He feared the tingle returning.

" 'Marry' me, my lord."

"Humans say a lot of things they don't mean. Do you know that?"

"Yes. But I think he _means_ it."

"Do you know what it is to be 'married'?"

"He said it meant we'd promise to be together for the rest of our lives," she answered. "That we would love each other."

"A desperate hope, at best," he observed quietly.

"My lord?"

"Nothing. Let me ask you: Many years ago, you said you would follow me for the rest of your days. Do you remember that?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Then … why leave me?" There was the urgency again, he thought. Damn.

At last, the woman sighed and spread her arms, as if to indicate that her answer was somewhere nearby. The limbs floated independently in the air as she struggled to voice her response. At last, they simply flopped to her sides.

"My lord," she said, "when I'm with him, I feel a … _stirring _… inside me … I've never felt before."

Her eyes turned deep, and her voice turned yearning. "_Never _…"

He raised an eyebrow again. "A _'stirring' _…?"

"Especially when we've been around children. I don't know why."

The silence that followed was filled with his realization. "Ah," he said, and it was full of understanding.

She looked concerned. "Could I be sick, my lord?"

"Yes," he replied, "but not in the way you think. It's not fatal."

"Will I be all right?"

"That will be up to you. But let me ask you: You would spend the rest of your life among humans. You likely would never see me again. Are you prepared for that?"

Her expression made it clear that she hadn't considered it. She seemed stalled, hesitant – disarmed. "_Never,_ my lord …?"

"Most likely."

She looked down as a stray breeze flowed past them. The leaves above them rustled, and the flecks of sunlight played across her yukata. Her long dark hair swayed with the wind, then settled again.

She looked back at him. He could see the certainty on her face.

"My lord," she said softly, "as much as I wanted to be with you when we met … I want to be with this man now …"

He regarded her. "You've … changed in our time together. I never noticed …"

"I didn't mean to change, my lord," she answered, and meant it.

But you _did _change, he thought. I forgot you would grow up, as all human children do. That was my mistake. I live for many, many times a human life, so I forgot.

I cannot stop time. I could not keep you a child forever. As much as I wanted to.

Then he hated himself for being weak enough to admit that.

Noisily, brush moved behind him, and he turned slightly. From the foliage appeared a small green imp with large eyes and a beak. He wore a brown robe and a tall black conical hat. In one hand, he held a staff with the small magical heads of an old man and old woman. In the other, he held brown leather reins.

A moment later, the sound of heavy hooves introduced a large dragon. It looked like a scaly horse with two long necks and equine-like heads and manes. Their snouts were muzzled. The animal stopped when the imp halted.

"My lord!!" the small creature screeched. "Your enemy is on the move! I have felt him heading to the northwest!"

The lord considered it. Finally, he turned fully toward the imp, and as he did, his long white fur stole flowed like a living thing to follow him. There was a pause, then he turned his head partly back toward the woman.

"Do as you will," he said to her flatly, turned again and started to walk away.

He heard her happy gasp, then her excited "Thank you, my lord!!"

"RIN!!"

He stopped in the instant that her name silenced her. It seemed to silence the forest itself. It was as if all things stopped.

Except for him. For the last time, over his shoulder, he spoke to her.

"I will remember you … Rin …"

His head then turned from her, and he started to walk away once more.

From where he stood, the imp saw the woman smile more greatly than he had ever seen her do. Silly human, he thought. She had always been silly. Especially about this man she always talked about these days, he recalled with annoyance.

The woman cupped her mouth. "And I will always remember _you,_ Lord Sesshomaru!!"

She lowered her hands, and the imp noticed she had a huge smile. Good riddance, he thought as she wheeled about, headed for the trees and, running, struck out at last on her own.

"InuYasha," its characters and situations are copyright of their respective owners. Story copyright 2010 by George Pollock, Jr.


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